


The Tenth Decennial Requiem Ball

by Mooncactus



Category: Skulduggery Pleasant - Derek Landy
Genre: F/M, SPX spoilers, Skulduggery Pleasant Resurrection Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-11-13 03:48:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11176377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mooncactus/pseuds/Mooncactus
Summary: Omen Darkly tries to play wingman on the anniversary of many things, including, but not limited to: the night Never's parents died (and came back), the first time Vile and Darquesse met, the time a cute boy pointed out his father's puke in Valkyrie's hair, and the ending of the War.Spoilers for Skulduggery Pleasant: Resurrection.





	The Tenth Decennial Requiem Ball

**Author's Note:**

> (jazz hands)
> 
> like skulduggery pleasant, just when you think i'm dead I come back, better and crankier than before. 
> 
> This fic served mostly as an exercise on how to get Omen and Never's voices right (which ended up kinda moot, as they're 2 years older in this), and then because I kept thinking of more and more shit that would go down at this ball. (why do my fics always... get so long.......)
> 
> There is quite a large number of songs named in this fic (and plenty of unnamed background music) so I've created a playlist. It will give obviously away some of the songs, so don't listen until after if you want it to remain a surprise! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7UIHl0oJEpg&list=PLCQNXXLWf0oKWBwuLdu4vtZvdZIwrVEZ0
> 
> Immense gratitude and love for my betas, eyesocketsandsuits and ikolism!
> 
> Finally is is dedicated to my lovely friend Maddz's birthday, who bestowed the gift of "Crave You" as a valduggery song upon me and changed my life forever. Maddz, you are the best, and I'm so glad to have shared skeleton hell with you the last four years. <3

One hundred years ago, the war between Mevolent and his followers ended. Every decade since, there had been a grand ball to celebrate the anniversary of when the crossfire ceased. It was a grand soiree, one of the only ways mages really noticed the passage of time. The ball had always been held in Ireland, but had previously been held in private mansions - first Corrival Academy’s namesake’s, and then Gordon Edgley’s. Now, with their glorious new Sanctuary, it would be held right in Roarhaven. It was a grand, noble event, and only the best of the best got to attend.

Omen Darkly already knew all of this from school, but it was all highlighted in grand script floating in the air up on the carpeted stairs leading up to the entrance to the ball, which was a nice little reminder. Everyone else was entering in individual groups, but Omen stood alone in his charcoal grey suit, hands together, watching as a group of three handed over their invitations to the man at the door, and tried not to geek out.

This year, the guest list was biggest ever - but more elite than ever before. They had started sending out invites _two years ago_ \- with presents and incentives to get everyone who was anyone to come. Like the previous ball, even those from Mevolent’s side were invited - which Omen thought was only fair, seeing as China Sorrows was hosting. Omen looked at the gold engraved disk in his hand, which had “The Tenth Decennial Requiem Ball” around the inner circle. (The one with the cut out hole. It was like a Blu-Ray. Or, maybe more like a … record? Yeah, that’s what those were called.)

When the group of three entered the double doors, Omen walked up the stairs, back straight and shoulders back like Valkyrie had taught him, and even presented the disk serving as his invitation with a cool little flourish.

The attendant took him and sent him a long, cold look that made all of Omen’s confidence curdle in his gut.

“Hi,” said Omen, trying a smile.

“Greetings,” said the attendant, and Omen smiled harder.

The attendant did not.

He looked at Omen and came up short, as everyone did.

“All attendees of the Requiem Ball must be over the age of sixteen,” he said, like he had already had this conversation with too many people already. Most people thought Omen was younger than he was, due to his height, and the stubborn pudginess to his cheeks that Never said made him “look like _Boss Baby_ ”.

“I, uh, I turned sixteen last month,” Omen said, trying not to flush. “I brought my mortal ID if you want it?”

The expression on the man’s face became even more withering, but he finally placed the disk into the reader, and Omen watched as a fine crease appeared between his pale eyebrows.

“It says,” he said, slowly, with increasing disbelief, “you’re Valkyrie Cain’s plus one.”

“Yeah,” said Omen quickly, and then, “I mean, yes, sir.”

The attendant raised an eyebrow. “And where is Miss Cain?”

“Al … already in there, I guess?” Omen squirmed. “I was working on a Maths assignment, and then I lost track of the time, and I knew Skulduggery would have flipped out if I walked here in my suit, so I had to beg someone for a ride, and …”

The attendant was reaching for a sigil on the wall. Omen recognized it - security.

He paled, and started talking very, very quickly. “Look, I know how fake it sounds, but I’m _serious --_ here, look _\--”_ he pulled out his phone, opened up to his lockscreen - a selfie of him, Skulduggery, Valkyrie, and Never in Brazil, two months ago.

The attendant leaned forward to peer at it, and then back up to Omen’s face, as if to confirm he was one and the same.

At long last, the man sighed. “Welcome, sir, and enjoy the event. Refreshments are provided in the _secondary_ room, to the left hand side of the ballroom entrance.”

Omen actually bowed with gratitude, and slipped past him into the Sanctuary. This short little hallway, he knew, led to the grand ballroom, though he had never been it before. There were a few people mingling in the hall - none of whom paid him any mind - and the doors at the end were wide open, showing dozens more milling around in fine dresses and suits.

Omen felt himself straighten up immediately. Skulduggery had insisted on getting him fitted for a proper suit, a fact that he was now immensely grateful for. He had never been so happy to go unnoticed.

He stepped into the ballroom, and his breath caught. The room was beautiful - silver everywhere, more writing hanging in the air - quotes, important dates, the names of the dead - and there was _live orchestra_ in the corner, and everyone was beautiful and serene and dressed to the nines. He could see China Sorrows, dressed in blood red, conducting the entire thing like an empress commanding her empire. (Kinda like Cersei. But with better hair.)

He had never met most of the attendants - there were some Sanctuary workers he had bumped shoulders with, and a few parents he recognized from events at Corrival, but for the most part, these were the Elders, celebrities, and war heroes who wouldn’t be caught dead anywhere Omen would be. It was more than a little terrifying.

“Ah, there you are,” came Never’s voice, sounding relieved but cool as usual at the same time. She tapped him on the left shoulder but stood on his opposite side, and he had to spin to get a full look at her. She was wearing a dark green asymmetrical dress, and her hair was freshly dyed black, short and shaved on the side, her fringe falling across her eyes. She clutched a glass of something purple with bright green nails, and appraised him carefully, eyes squinty.

“Huh. You really do look like _Boss Baby_.”

Omen gave a small sigh. “I like your headband.” It was nestled in her hair - bright green emeralds.

She ducked her head. “It is pretty snazzy.” In heels, she stood seven or eight inches taller than him. Omen had long accepted he was the token short person of their squad.

“I didn’t think you were settling with a dress,” he said.

“Oh, I didn’t,” she said, swishing the skirt with one hand. “This is outfit one. Outfit two premieres in a few hours.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” Omen said, earnestly, and Never beamed.

“I kept looking for you in the other room,” she said. “Where were you? Did you somehow manage to avoid the minders? Maybe they thought you were someone important.”

“First of all,” said Omen, “ouch. Secondly, what do you mean by minders?”

Never looked around, going up even higher on her heels to check over the heads of everyone around them. The music wasn’t very loud, but he still could only barely hear her when her voice dropped to a whisper.

“They’re here to shepherd off the _undesirables._ Y’know. The interns and the spotty teenagers who got dragged here by their parents. There’s a room off to the side where they’re holing everyone up. It's awful. I’ve had to escape from it twice.”

“Oh,” said Omen, finally realizing the attendant’s parting words. That also explained why he could only see the famous and the elite surrounding him.

“I think they’re setting up Mario Kart, though,” Never said.

“Oh,” said Omen, a lot more cheerfully. “You came in with Skulduggery?”

“Yeah, he picked me up in the Bentley. Which was _fucking sick_ , I felt like a movie star. He’s in a weird mood, though.”

“Really?” said Omen. “Why?”

Never shrugged. “I mean, the war thing is kinda a bummer, isn’t it? Don’t ask me.” Never didn’t usually bother with trying to understand why the other members of their squad did _anything._ (She also didn’t like Omen using the word “squad”.)

Never bounced excitedly in her heels, craning her head around to get a better look at the other attendants. “God, this is so - my _mum_ didn’t even get an invite this year, and here we are! Did you know we’re the only people from school who are here without their parents? Isn’t that cool?”

“Auger got an invite,” Omen pointed out.

Never flipped a hand dismissively. “He’s at that thing in Iceland, so it doesn’t count. Omen--” she gripped his shoulder tightly. “This is _it_. We are officially the cool kids. You’re goddamn welcome.”

“You’ve been sent to the kiddy room twice.”

She glowered at him. “Don’t ruin this for me, Darkly.”

“Sorry. I really do like the headband.”

A man dressed in white was leading a girl with bright red hair into the side room, and his gaze fell over the two teens. Omen stiffened, trying to look grown up, while Never leaned towards the shoulder she was gripping and starting laughing, like he had said something _hilarious._

“Is this working?” she muttered into his ear.

“You sound like you’re a rich person in an anime.”

“Damn it,” said Never, and switched to a more reserved, sophisticated pose. They stood like that for a few moments, Omen wishing he had some sort of glass or prop to hold. He should have kept his invite disk.

“Why are you so worried, anyway? I mean, they let you leave before.”

“Let me? I _escaped_.”

Omen frowned. “What? How?”

Never rolled her eyes, and teleported away and back.

“Ohhh,” he said. “Right.”

Omen felt a hand on his other shoulder, and he stiffened, already dodging out of the way. “Sorry, sir, excuse me--”

“You’re excused,” said Skulduggery Pleasant, “if that was an apology for being late.”

“I bet Skulduggery five quid that you would sleep through the whole thing,” said Never, still holding onto him. It was making him feel like a child being praised by his parents for using the potty correctly.

“Money I’m expecting to see before the end of the night,” Skulduggery said, without missing a beat. “You’re looking dapper, Omen. It suits you very well.”

Omen tugged on his lapels, self conscious. “Thank you.” It felt weirdly goofy to be getting a compliment from Skulduggery, who was dressed even more impeccable than usual in a tuxedo. He wasn’t wearing a hat, which made him look strangely vulnerable. The detective let go of his shoulder with a little pat.

“Is Valkyrie here yet?” Omen asked, and Skulduggery shook his head.

“She’s always late to these things.”

“Surprise, surprise,” said Never.

“I know you needed to get me and Never in as your plus ones,” Omen said, fixing his sleeves, “but I’m kinda surprised you guys didn’t get ready together.”

“She didn’t want to,” Skulduggery said, voice even, and Omen frowned.

“She didn’t?”

“She wouldn’t even let me buy her a dress,” he said, and Never made a little kr- _snrt_ noise into her glass. Skulduggery tilted his head.

“Yes, Never?”

Never coughed, recovering, and started to wipe her mouth with the back of her hand and then froze, remembering her lipstick. Omen fished out a handkerchief from an inner pocket, and she took it gratefully. “Uh,” she said, “did you buy her last dress?”

Skulduggery nodded.

Never’s jaw dropped. “But that dress was _so--_ ”

Omen stepped on Never’s foot, and she recovered, a second too late. “... Expensive looking,” she stuttered. “My mum kept … saying that.”

Skulduggery peered down at them, well aware they were both full of shit but clearly having no idea in what exact way.

“Well,” he said. “Yes. But Ghastly wasn’t available.”

“Oh,” said Omen and Never, horrified.

Skulduggery shook his head. “No, no, this was two years before the knife in the back thing.”

“Oh,” said Omen and Never again, and they all sat in awkward silence. The absence of Valkyrie was obvious, and Omen wondered why she was insisting on getting ready on her own. He didn’t think she was bailing; she hadn’t dropped last second from an event in nearly a year, and besides, she always told Skulduggery first.

They could both relax a bit with Skulduggery there; people kept coming up to them to say hello, and Never and Omen introduced themselves cheerfully. Most people were really nice, even the ones who glared at Skulduggery and warned them to “get far, far away from this psychopath”. (It was always nice to be worried over.)

It wasn’t much of a party. The music was pretty, Omen thought, but you couldn’t even sway to it, which was about all Omen could pass off as acceptable dancing. There were some canapes, but they were teeny tiny and covered in edible gold. (Never said the actual food was in the other room, and Omen’s stomach rumbled with betrayal.) Time passed, and Skulduggery took his pocket watch out. It was nearly two hours after the official start time of the ball, and Omen was starting to wonder if Valkyrie really wasn’t going to show up.

He was admiring Skulduggery’s black skull cufflinks when Never whispered, “ _well, holy shit_ ,” and they both looked up.

Valkyrie Cain stood in the ballroom’s entrance, dressed in a floor length black gown, embellished with gold. Omen had no idea what any of the fancy dress words were - he knew the dress was heavy looking, and sleeveless, but that was about it - but that didn’t matter.

Valkyrie was _always_ pretty - even when bloodied and sweaty. He had seen her look nice in old tank tops and sweats, t-shirts and jeans, her work clothes, but this was something else. She looked _incredible._ She glowed. A wave of heads turned towards her, and he could see people’s jaws drop. (Not literally, though. Skulduggery’s was still firmly attached.)

She spotted them and smiled a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, and picked up her skirts and strolled towards them. The crowd parted; Omen felt like he was in a scene in _Cinderella_.

“You look like a princess,” Omen murmured, awed.

“Ah,” said Never, voice dry. “As attention-seeking as expected. Lemme see the shoes.”

“Always so supportive, Never.” But she obliged and lifted her skirt, showing off little black shoes with a peek-a-boo toe (again, Omen had _no idea_ was these terms were). Compliments (and insults) delivered, they all turned towards Skulduggery.

Expectantly.

Omen sucked in a breath, waiting as Skulduggery adjusted his tie and looked at his partner - and Omen knew this would be a moment. Maybe even _the_ moment. Even Never seemed to be holding her breath.

Valkyrie looked at Skulduggery.

Skulduggery looked at Valkyrie.

“Did you find parking?” he asked.

Valkyrie frowned. “I did the valet.”

“You valeted the Oompa Loompa?”

“You’re not allowed to judge me when that means you walked two blocks because you refused to let anyone touch the Bentley.”

“I’m not afraid of a little exercise if it means the Bentley doesn’t get scratched.”

“You’re wearing a tuxedo!”

“And I usually wear a three piece suit.”

Omen shot Never a look.

Never shrugged.

Omen shot Never another, more significant Look.

Never examined her shoes with interest, and Omen sighed, returning his attention to the grown ups. Valkyrie had shoved her hands into her pockets (oh, that’s cool - he didn’t realize those kind of dresses could have pockets) and was looking at Skulduggery with obvious frustration.

Skulduggery kept talking about the cars.

Valkyrie put her hands on her hips, which did double duty of showing off her arms and making it clear she was not happy.

“You look …” Skulduggery said, and Valkyrie straightened up.

“... annoyed.”

“Cars do not thrill me.” Valkyrie clearly had had enough. “Where are the drinks?”

“The booze is back there,” Never said, pointed. “The fun stuff in the secondary room,” she said, swirling her purple drink, which Omen just noticed had gold glitter in it.

Valkyrie nodded and headed off, and once again, the crowd parted for her.

Once she was out of earshot, Omen turned to Skulduggery.

“What was _that?_ ”

“What was what?”

Omen ran his hand through his hair, forgetting about the gel. “The - the car thing!”

“The parking tonight is terrible,” Skulduggery said.

“I keep saying we need Uber in Roarhaven,” said Never, and Omen let out a little frustrated groan at _both_ of them.

He watched as Valkyrie got a glass of something and an itty bitty water bottle from the bar, and then got caught in a conversation with two mages he recognized from the Sanctuary.

Skulduggery took a step, stopped, then took another step in the opposite direction. He did a quarter turn, and then a full spin, and then finally turned back to Omen and Never, said “excuse me,” and then walked right into the middle of the ballroom.

About twenty feet from Valkyrie.

Omen groaned, feeling a physical pain in his chest at this display.

“What’s got you bothered?” Never said. “And sound important and smart when you answer, because without Skulduggery as our _in,_ we’re sitting ducks.”

Omen ignored the second half of this. “I - them! What was _that_? He can’t go two days without complimenting her and she comes in here looking like _that_ and he talks about parking?”

Never groaned. “Omen, I still have to resist the urge to vomit when Valkyrie speaks sometimes, please don't involve me with the shipping crap--”

“No,” said Omen. “No! This is - this is more than that, look at this, look at _them_. They’re miserable.”

Never opened her mouth to protest, and then they both watched as Skulduggery didn’t notice a man trying to get his attention because he was too busy staring at Valkyrie.

Never sighed. “This _is_ pathetic.”

Omen sliced his hand in the air, like _see?_ “We gotta do something.”

Never snorted. “And what exactly were you thinking? If they’re gonna be weird, they’re gonna be weird. You’re not dragging me into this.”

The band started up again, and dancers found partners in the center of the ballroom. The women who were talking to Valkyrie walked towards the center, ready to dance.

“Maybe if they dance _… ”_ Omen thought aloud.

“Look,” said Never. “They didn’t dance at the last Requiem Ball either, according to Mum. Maybe that’s not their thing! I mean, _we’re_ not dancing.”

“Yeah, because I don’t know how to do ballroom dancing,” said Omen. “I would have asked you if I did.”

Never looked at him, eyes narrow.

“People dance at balls,” he said. “People tell other people that they look nice. They’re our _friends_ , Never. If we can save the evening for them we should.”

Never groaned, and without another word stomped off into the ballroom, dodging past dancers.

Omen watched her go, feeling very small. A man in white had spotted him and was making a beeline towards him; they were working overtime to clear out the room of mundanes so all the fancy older mages could dance. He was almost surprised no one had hoisted up Never and dragged her out.

Feeling a slight cold sweat break out on his forehead, Omen started walking towards Valkyrie, figuring out they couldn’t actually physically take him away from the person he was the plus one to.

“Hi,” he said, and she looked up, placing her mini water bottle in her pocket to free one hand.

“Hi, Omen,” she said. “You look great, by the way. Sorry. I meant to say that, but then Skulduggery went off about parking, and …” she shrugged.

“It’s okay. How are you?”

She sighed. “To be completely honest, wondering why I even showed up. Last Requiem Ball was … a lot. I was sixteen then, did you know? Weird.”

Omen nodded. “I was six. I remember that night, though. Mum and Dad were invited, but didn’t go - Auger got kidnapped. Some mage got word about the Death Bringer’s population killing thing and got worried Auger would get killed, so they just grabbed him from the front yard.”

Valkyrie’s eyes widened. “What about you?”

Omen shrugged. “I was inside watching TV. I felt really bad about it when Mum and Dad found out, but what I was going to do? Cling to the guy’s leg? Anyway. They went off, got him back, and I stayed at home.”

“Were you okay?”

“I microwaved some pizza bagels,” Omen said, and had a sudden flash of memory of the little green step stool he’d use to get up to the higher parts of house when he was little, to wash dishes or make pasta. Huh. He wondered if they still had it.

He cracked a smile. “I mean, your ball night couldn’t have been any worse than that, right? You didn’t even get caught in the death bubble.”

Valkyrie let out a bizarre little laugh. “There is not nearly enough booze in this--” she held up her drink, “to recap that night.”

Omen laughed too. “I’ll take your word for it.”

“I will tell you,” she promised. “Eventually. Maybe. Oh God.” She rubbed her back, like she was remembering an old injury. “Omen, have I ever told you how immensely grateful I am that you and Never are nowhere _near_ as stupid I was at sixteen?”

He nodded. “You have. Also, um, are you okay? I, uh, know you don’t usually drink…”

“Oh.” Valkyrie blinked. “Oh, no, this is nothing. I’m just…” she started to look in Skulduggery’s direction, and caught herself. “Just trying to not overthink things.”

Omen kept his face carefully neutral. “Skulduggery sounded hurt that you wanted to get your own dress this year ...”

“He said that?” Valkyrie blurted out, and then caught herself again. “I mean, it’s not a big deal. I just wanted to surprise ...” she groaned. “It was stupid. I don't know what I … Whatever. Whatever. Skulduggery can say what he wants.”

“Well, he _usually_ does.”

Valkyrie squinted at him. Omen smiled.

A man Omen didn’t know came up to them, said hello to Valkyrie. He complimented her and she just sort of vaguely nodded.

“You look beautiful, Miss Cain.”

“I know.”

“You _know?_ ”

“I mean, yeah,” she said. “Obviously.”

The man scoffed. “Well, never mind. I guess what they say is true.” He walked off in a huff, and Omen watched him go, feeling insulted on Valkyrie’s behalf.

Valkyrie didn’t seem to care.

“Not the person you wanted calling you beautiful?”

“No,” Valkyrie said. A beat. Then:  “Hey. Don’t - it's not like that.”

Omen played innocent. “Not like what?”

“I don’t care what Skulduggery thinks,” she mumbled, sounding more like the age she looked than he had ever heard her before. “Or says. It doesn’t matter.”

Omen tilted his head. “But it’s nice to be noticed, isn’t it?”

“Well.” Valkyrie crossed her arms, stubbornly. “Of course. Obviously. I don’t wear big stupidly expensive ball gowns every day. But I don’t need it from _him_ if he’s not gonna offer it.”

“And if he did…”

Valkyrie’s expression was wry. “You heard him talk about cars. He’s not going to. Change the subject.”

“Okay,” Omen chirped, obediently. “You think that guy was going to ask you to dance?”

“Maybe,” said Valkyrie.

“Kinda a shame not to dance in that dress,” he said. “Don’t you think?”

Valkyrie snorted. “Yeah, and no one wants to get ten feet near Darquesse. Which is for the best. I can’t waltz for shit.”

“Neither can I,” Omen said. “But I’m sure I can find you a teacher.”

Valkyrie frowned, but all Omen did was grin again and give her a half bow - because Never was waving at him with both arms over the heads of the crowd, trying to get his attention. “Excuse me,” he said to Valkyrie, and walked quickly towards Never.

“Don’t leave me alone for too long,” Valkyrie called out to him, and Omen turned back so he could give her a little salute.

“Hey, Never - oh!”

Never had changed clothes since Omen had last seen him. His hair was now pushed back, and he could see his eyebrows. (He liked Never’s eyebrows. They were like angry little caterpillars.) He was wearing a suit that looked like something John Boyega would wear to a Star Wars premiere.

“What do you think?” he said.

“You look fantastic,” said Omen.

“Why, thank you. Oh, here -” he held his emerald headband and settled it onto the crown of Omen’s head. “I know you were ogling it.”

Omen reached up, adjusted it, and grinned. “Thank you. How do I look?”

“Fucking amazing,” said Never, tucking a bit of Omen’s hair behind his ear. “Anyway. Skulduggery will be heading this way in a few minutes. I told him it was urgent.”

Omen frowned. “I thought you weren’t getting involved.”

“Yeah, well, then I realized you couldn’t pull this off without me. Oh, hey!” He waved, and Omen, expecting Skulduggery, tilted his head as a very handsome young man waved back and started walking towards them.

“That’s Hansard Kray,” Never whispered. “His mother was my mum’s cousin, so we’re … second cousins, I think? His dad’s a tosser, and we all hate that side of his family, but he’s nice.”

Hansard Kray was young - still hadn’t aged a day from his surge, so it was impossible to tell if he was 25 or 250. He had blonde hair and kind brown eyes, and a nice smile. Omen could see a family resemblance, if he squinted really hard.

“Hi Never,” said Hansard. “And … Omen, was it?”

“Yes,” Omen said, pleased. “Nice to meet you.”

Hansard nodded, started to say some sort of pleasantry, and then froze. “Are you here with Valkyrie Cain?”

Omen frowned, nodded.

“If she asks,” he said, voice low, “I am _not here.”_ And then he spun on his heel and half ran off in the other direction.

Omen turned to Never, face a picture.

“I don’t know,” Never shrugs. “Most of the reason my family still talks to his dad is because we all hate on Valkyrie together, so I’m not really surprised. Oop, here we go.”

Skulduggery stepped in towards them, forming a little triangle. “Was that Hansard Kray running away just now?”

Omen nodded, and Skulduggery actually burst out laughing. Omen decided to ask later.

When he recovered, he straightened and then looked down at them, looking important and serious. “What’s the emergency?”

“You,” said Omen, and Skulduggery head did a full tilt to one side.

“You’re acting weird. You _and_ Valkyrie are acting weird.”

Skulduggery went to adjust his hat, and then remembered he didn’t have it on. His hands hovered awkwardly for a moment before returning to his side. “Of course we are. We’re being cautious. This may seem like a merry shindig to the two of you, but ten years ago Valkyrie and I walked into a ballroom full of corpses-”

“I _know_ ,” said Never. “My parents were legally dead for two hours.”

“Oh,” said Skulduggery. “... Right. Well. Yes. But I’m trying to stay on alert in case anything goes wrong, and I’m sure Valkyrie is doing the same.”

“She’s not having a very good time,” said Omen.

“Again,” said Skulduggery, “the last Requiem Ball was … complicated.”

“All the more reason for you two to have fun at this one,” Omen added eagerly. “You don’t have to worry - Never and I can be back up. The B-team.”

Skulduggery looked at him.

“C-team. … D-team. But a team, regardless.”

“Omen,” said the detective. “I have to be completely honest. I have no idea what you’re going on about.”

“Skulduggery,” he said, trying to make himself sound very grown up and serious. “I think you need to ask Valkyrie to dance.”

Skulduggery went still.

Omen held his ground.

Skulduggery started laughing, but it was a very different laugh from the one a few minutes before. It was a forced laugh. It was a _nervous_ laugh. “What? She’ll step on me.”

“Are you afraid?”

“Of her stepping on me? Yes. Her feet are huge.”

“Are you afraid of _asking her_?”

Skulduggery laughed again, and Never raised an eyebrow.

“That sounds like a yes to me,” he muttered, and Skulduggery’s head turned sharply towards him.

“Is this coming from _both_ of you?”

“No, this is all Omen’s bonkers masterplan. But I _do_ think you’re scared.” He took a step forward. Without his heels, he was once again half a foot shorter than Skulduggery. Somehow, he managed to stare the detective down.

“You’re both being ridiculous,” Skulduggery said, taking a step back. “I simply don’t want to dance with her.”

Omen crossed his arms, vaguely aware he was a 5’4 sixteen year old in a sparkly headband challenging the skeleton detective. He didn’t care. “Why didn’t you compliment her?”

“Valkyrie already knows she’s beautiful.”

Never crossed his arms and tilted his head, and Skulduggery squirmed.

“Fine,” he said. “I’ll tell her … something. But I’m not dancing with her.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t need to dance with Valkyrie to prove that I …” he trailed off, and sighed. “Why am I even having this conversation with you?”

“Because you know I’m right,” Omen responded.

“Honestly,” said Never, “it’s easier not to question it, Skulduggery. Omen is just really really good at making people stay in stupid conversations.”

“Hey--” Omen said, and then sighed, cutting himself off. “Not important. It’s not about proving anything, it’s about making the evening worth it. And no one will even ask her to dance.”

“Well, actually,” said Never. “I’m pretty sure Dexter Vex is about to.”

Skulduggery spun to check, nearly taking out a table while doing so. Sure enough, there was Dexter Vex leaning, smiling, and charming by Valkyrie’s side. Valkyrie was actually smiling.

Skulduggery stared for a few long moments - shoulders low, posture strange - before turning back to them. “Doesn’t matter. Actually, no, it does matter, because her dancing with someone else means you can leave me alone.”

“But _you_ should be asking her,” Omen insisted. “You’re her best friend!”

“I’m not going to ask her.”

“Why not?”

“Because she’ll laugh at me,” said Skulduggery, quiet.

“So?” said Never, and Omen elbowed him.

“She will not,” said Omen..

“She will. And people will … talk.”

“People already talk,” said Never. “You _really_ don’t wanna know what they were saying about you two after the last ball.”

“Never …” Omen warned.

Never shrugged. “Just being honest. Might as well have them gossiping over something you do have control over.”

Skulduggery looked at him, and then exhaled very slowly. “Hypothetically,” he said, also slowly. “If I agreed with the complete nonsense you two are spouting, and also hypothetically, I chose to follow your advice, wouldn’t it be too late?”

“Not if you beat Dexter Vex from asking,” said Never. “Which, speaking of,” he mimed tapping the face of a watch.

Skulduggery straightened, and then exhaled. “I maintain,” he said, “that you two are both insane and completely off base, and that this conversation never happened.”

“Roger dodger,” said Never, saluting.

“Good luck,” said Omen, and Skulduggery nodded, and then started walking in a brisk pace towards Valkyrie.

They watched him go.

“Wanna get a closer look?”

Never snorted. “Is that even a question?”

* * *

He didn’t actually beat Dexter Vex to asking. He and Valkyrie were standing, his hand on her waist, waiting for the next song to start, when Skulduggery approached them, and tapped Vex on the shoulder.

“Mind if I cut in?”

Dexter looked up. “Not at all.” Clearly reading the situation for exactly what it was, he grinned encouragingly at Valkyrie, released her, and gave Skulduggery a friendly pat on the shoulder before walking away. He found Omen and Never behind a pillar they were using as their vantage point, and laughed before raising a finger to his lips.

“Give me the details later,” he whispered, and then headed to the group of people that was serving as the queue to dance with China. (Never had referred to it as “some hilarious, fucked up mage version of _The Bachelorette”_.)

Back in the center of the ballroom, Valkyrie looked baffled. “What’s wrong? Oh God, is someone dead already?”

“No,” said Skulduggery. “Well, not any more than usual. The usual dead person, I mean. As in myself. Who is always some degree of dead.” He exhaled, slowly. “I’m feeling unusually tongue tied. Which is funny, for someone without a tongue.”

“You’re full of surprises like that.”

“Valkyrie,” he said.

“Yeah?”

“You’re always beautiful.”

Omen could see Valkyrie swallow. “So I have been told.”

“And yet you still manage to surprise me,” he said, and he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “You look radiant. Splendorous. Effulgent. Dazzling. Resplendent. Breathtaking, for someone without a breath to take. I’m running out of descriptors, but the point still stands.”

“ _That_ ,” replied Valkyrie, sounding pleased, “I haven’t heard before.” She leaned her cheek into his hand.

The members of the orchestra were taking their seats again, putting their instruments into place. Skulduggery looked at them, and back to Valkyrie.

“May I have this dance?”

Valkyrie’s head jolted back. “What? You _know_ I can’t waltz.”

“I do,” he said. “But I’m a good teacher.”

Valkyrie glanced around them, and Omen and Never ducked further behind the pillar, just in case.

“People are going to stare ...”

“We’re worldbreakers,” said Skulduggery. “People already stare.”

Valkyrie looked wary. “You’re not going to gouge my eye out again, are you?”

“Is that code for something?” Never whispered. Omen shushed him.

Valkyrie took a deep breath. “But. Uh. Yeah. Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

Skulduggery put his hand on her waist - Valkyrie jolted before easing into it, and she put a hand on his shoulder. Their remaining hands found the other’s.

The strings started up, and then they were dancing. Skulduggery was leaned in towards Valkyrie’s ear - whispering instructions, Omen realized.

They danced like two people who were clearly not meant to dance. Valkyrie was sloppy and nervous - she stepped on his feet, just like Skulduggery predicted - but every stumble was quickly fixed, and Skulduggery didn’t seem to mind one bit. She was laughing, and Skulduggery said something too quiet for Omen to hear, and then she leaned her head into his chest and laughed harder.

“Jesus,” said Never, who disappeared and reappeared holding popcorn. “This is some _Beauty and the Beast_ shit.”

Omen nodded, feeling a little like a proud parent.

“They’re nailing this twirl, though,” said Never, and Omen nodded, taking some popcorn. He was _starving._ Valkyrie’s skirt twisted as Skulduggery spun her with a gloved hand, and Omen realized, for the first time, they weren’t the only ones watching. Most of the dancers had stopped to watch them, and they all saw as the dance went on and Valkyrie gained confidence, the mistakes becoming less and less frequent until Omen couldn’t even notice any. Some even clapped.

Skulduggery and Valkyrie didn’t notice any of it.

The song ended, and without saying a word, they continued into the next dance, a livelier one, with the musicians clapping along. Skulduggery picked her up, spinning her around, and she clung to his neck, laughing.

“Oh God, _please_ don’t drop me.”

“I’ve got you,” he replied, and Omen could hear the smile in his voice. People started to join them on the dance floor, and Omen had to keep an eye on Valkyrie’s skirt to keep track of them as the ballroom became a spin of twirling couples and people crowding close to observe.

Omen blinked as a man with lobster claws walked in front of them, smacking his claws together to the music.

“Okay,” said Never, slowly, eyes following the man. “What the _fuck.”_

Omen blinked again, finding it difficult to return his gaze to Valkyrie and Skulduggery.

They watched the lobster man gracefully pick up a glass of champagne and start talking to a member of the band.

Never tore his eyes away, shuddering,  and looked back at Omen.

“C’mon, Darkly,” said Never. “Let’s dance.”

Omen frowned. “I still can’t slow dance.”

“Neither can I. But they’re playing “Ballroom Blitz” in the secondary room.” He offered his arm, and they teleported.

* * *

“I can’t believe this,” Omen said, raising his hands. “ _This_ is what I was missing out on?”

The secondary room was _hopping._ It was actually a huge room - Omen was expecting, like, a tiny rec room - and there was music, and a giant screen for Super Smash Bros, and _catering._ People were sitting on couches and bean bags - mostly kids and interns, though there were a couple grown ups who seemed to realize where the real party was. There was even a popcorn machine in the corner, which explained where Never got his. And a _chocolate fountain._

Omen’s eyes were round as saucers. “Why did we stay in the boring part all night!?”

“I wanted to feel important!”

Omen sighed, rubbing his eyes. “Remind me to stop taking you on your word.”

“That, honestly, is very wise.”

Never made them start “Ballroom Blitz” over, and they danced through the room, laughing and eating strawberry laces, making their classmates join in. No one else was dancing when they came in, but by the time “The Cha Cha Slide” ended, they were all up on their feet.

When Valkyrie Cain and Skulduggery Pleasant entered the room, everyone froze.

It had started to clear out in the last hour - it was close to one am now - but there was still a couple dozen people staring up at two of the most famous people in the magic world and not knowing what they were supposed to do.

“Food,” Valkyrie crowed, spotting the catering table. “Glorious food!”

Omen hopped up from his game of Cards Against Humanity (he was losing horribly anyway) and helped fix her a plate of food, grabbing her some macaroons from a decorative tower.

“You’re my favorite,” Valkyrie said. “And I like that headband on you. Are those emeralds real?”

“No,” Omen said, as Never poked his head in and answered “yes.”

Omen’s hands jumped up to his head, suddenly feeling very differently about his urge to throw the headband onto the couch before it gave him a headache.

Valkyrie walked over to the couch Skulduggery was sitting on and plopped down, swinging her legs (and skirts) over his thighs. Skulduggery didn’t seem to mind.

After realizing that they were just here to chill and not save/destroy the world, the kids and interns relaxed, and the party returned to its old vibe. Omen joined them on the couch, and Valkyrie recapped some of the weird encounters she had that evening, and why they had called it quits for the night.

“I was getting tired,” she explained, “and hungry, and then I saw Hansard Kray, and then decided it was time to make a speedy exit.”

Skulduggery and Omen shared a knowing look.

“Anyway. The dancing was nice --” she glanced at Skulduggery, face slightly pink. “But this is much better than watching China pretend to be-- oh _shit,”_ she said, as a song started blaring from the speakers. “ _This is my jam.”_

And an entire room of people watched as Valkyrie Cain kicked off her heels, hopped up and started dancing to some ancient Nicki Minaj song, rapping along. (Badly.)

And _made Skulduggery Pleasant dance with her._

She pulled him up beside her, and he stood, utterly lost, before putting his hands on her shoulders.

“Lower,” Valkyrie instructed, moving them to her waist, and he followed her lead.

Never was watching it unfold like he could not believe his eyes. “That’s some good fucking dancing.” He snorted.

Skulduggery clearly did not know what to do with any of his limbs, and he kept laughing and stepping away every time Valkyrie tried to grab him by the hips and drag him _too_ close, but Omen was pretty damn sure he had never seen Skulduggery anywhere near this happy.

“I’m not sure how comfortable I am with the knowledge that Valkyrie Cain has clearly gone to clubs,” Never observed.

There was an intern - the one with red hair - recording the entire thing on her phone, and Omen frowned, not sure if he should intervene. Skulduggery and Valkyrie were so freaked out about people seeing them together, and if this video got online--

“ _Ooops_ ,” said Never, slamming into the intern and sending her phone flying into a punch bowl. “Wow, so sorry!”

Omen grinned, and Never grinned back.

And then he felt a tap on his shoulder.

More than a little tired of how many times this had happened that night, Omen turned and found the face of his brother, sooty and disheveled, grinning back at him.

“Volcano,” said Auger, by way of explanation. “Oh man, I’m so glad I could make it.” He chomped down on a huge bite of chocolate-peanut butter cupcake, covering his mouth in frosting.

“Aren’t you supposed to be saving Iceland?” asked Never.

“Iceland is saved,” said Auger, “and I begged Mr. Renn for a favor, and here I am.”

Omen took a closer look at his twin. He was wearing a torn t-shirt and completely ratty jeans, and the toe on one of his trainers was torn open. His hair and face was covered with ash, and one of his eyebrows was singed.

“They let you through the front door like that?”

“Yeah,” said Auger. “Why?”

Omen sighed. “Nothing.”

“They look like they’re having fun,” Auger said, grinning, pointing a thumb at Valkyrie and Skulduggery.

“Your brother is to thank for that,” said Never. “He made it his personal mission in life to make sure they had a good time.”

“That’s wonderful, Omen,” said Auger, completely genuine, and Omen smiled.

“I’m so jealous,” the older twin continued, sighing. “This looks like so much fun, and I missed most of it. I don’t even know how to play Mario Kart.”

“I’ll teach you,” Never said, grinning.

“Really?” Auger asked, delighted.

“Wait,” Omen said. “Don’t. He’ll start you on Rainbow Road.”

They were interrupted by the sound of Valkyrie and Skulduggery talking loudly (arguing? Bantering? It was always hard to tell with those two.)

“We can do it!” Valkyrie exclaimed.

“No, we can’t.”

“We totally can.”

“Valkyrie, you learned how to waltz less than two hours ago--”

“Have faith, Skulduggery. _C’mon.”_

They strolled to the center of the room as a song played that sounded vaguely familiar to Omen - they were doing a kinda tango, mambo thing, close together and fast, and while clearly not experts, it seemed to be the marriage point between their two personal styles of dancing. He was sure that they were messing up pretty much everything they were doing, but they sure as hell were having fun.

Omen finally realized what song was - “(I’ve Had) The Time of My Life”.

“Oh no,” he said, and Auger frowned.

“Isn’t this the song from Dirty Dancing?”

Never turned to them. “What?”

Omen covered his face with a hand, and waited.

The three of them watched, open mouthed, as the other inhabitants of the room cleared a path - they must have recognized the song instantly - and Valkyrie ran towards Skulduggery’s open arms in bare feet.

(They could not actually do it, for the record. Valkyrie fumbled the leap, and instead of a dramatic lift, they both ended up on the floor near the corner, laughing hysterically, a pile of skirts and bones.)

Without a word needing to be said, Auger, Omen, and Never all crossed over to the corner, and stood in front of the detectives, blocking them from everyone else’s view. Skulduggery started laughing so hard he went silent.

“What a party,” Auger said, chuckling.

“And we spent _three hours_ watching grown ups sip champagne and eat escargot,” said Omen.

Never shrugged. “I wanted to live the life of luxury, sue me. There’s always the next one.”

Omen considered this. “What do you think we’re gonna be in ten years?”

He glanced down at Skulduggery and Valkyrie behind him - Skulduggery was leaning over her, elbows on opposite sides of her head, calling her Patrick Swayze and running his hand through her tangled curls as she mumbled “oh, shut up” between peals of laughter -

“Probably dead,” said Never.

“I hope not.” Auger frowned.

“You _especially_ ,” Never said. “Can we just agree to try and keep alive for the next decade so we can be the next ones everyone’s gossiping about?”

Omen made a pained face. “Would being gossiped over keep us from the fun room?”

“Didn’t stop them,” said Never, and they all took a quick glance back. Skulduggery and Valkyrie didn’t notice. Skulduggery was murmuring something very quietly, and Valkyrie’s hand was on his waist.

“I can’t remember the last time I just goofed off,” said Auger, softly. “I don’t know if I even remember how.”

Never stared at him, open mouthed. “That’s… that’s super pathetic, Auger.”

He shrugged with a sad smile.

Never took a deep breath, and then pointed at the brothers as a new song came on shuffle - old, fun, bouncy. “C’mon. Our heroics are over for the day. Let’s be kids.”

“Deal,” said the twins, and they pretended not to notice Valkyrie Cain and Skulduggery Pleasant kissing behind them as they danced.


End file.
